


Daydreaming (HankCon)

by CrimsonFandomTrash



Series: Detroit: Become Human Stuff - HankCon & Reed900 Hell [12]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Daydreaming, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Family Dynamics, Gen, Hank Anderson Swears, Imagination, M/M, Mentioned Cole Anderson, Pining, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 06:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFandomTrash/pseuds/CrimsonFandomTrash
Summary: Connor finds himself lost in thought a lot lately.





	Daydreaming (HankCon)

   Connor finds himself lost in thought a lot lately. It's not like he's trying to get distracted, it just happens without his permission. 

   It's not a necessarily horrible thing. He doesn't get distracted while he's doing something important or life-threatening, like say, chasing an armed perp through the streets of Detroit, but it is kinda getting a bit annoying that he's functioning properly one moment, and the next Hank has to snap his fingers in front of his face to bring him back to reality. 

   It's another boring day at the precinct. He and Hank are working on reports for cases they'd worked over the past few days, Gavin is loudly laughing and talking in the break room while Bryan sasses back at him and tries to make the detective lose his cool, on purpose. Phones are ringing, people are typing, and talking, and out in the lobby, Connor can vaguely hear one of the officers telling a lady that her husband, unfortunately, died during an armed robbery. It's the same old thing he's been hearing for four months now, day in and day out. People are dead, other people are in jail. Sometimes there are android victims, sometimes there're android criminals, but one thing is certain; crime in Detroit never sleeps. 

   He's got his head propped in his hand as he boredly goes over files on his terminal. This person killed this person, for this reason, this person was killed and the perp was never caught, this person killed another person, and then killed themself. There's nothing new about any of this to him. It's gotten really stale. And even though on one hand he's used to it, on the other hand, he isn't. He finds it hard to look at a dead body anymore without picturing all the innocent people whose lives he's been responsible for, he's already told Hank this, and the older man did suggest he stop working at the DPD, but Connor doesn't know anything besides police work. This is what's programmed into him, it's the only thing he's known since his conception back in August of last year when the whole deviancy thing started in the first place. 

   But he isn't thinking about that right now. He's not thinking about much of anything. The only thing he's really thinking is, 'how much longer til five PM?'. His internal clock reads 4:13 PM. He wants to throw himself into the Detroit River. He didn't even have to wonder if his partner felt the same way. He knew the answer would be a resounding yes. 

   Finished with his reports, Connor leans back in his chair and takes his surroundings in. He's surrounded by the smell of coffee and musky cologne, the sound of keyboards as people type, and phones ringing off the hooks as more and more people commit crimes in Detroit, and more and more people report said crimes. The likelihood of being given another case this far into the day is pretty far-fetched, and Captain Fowler only lets people leave this early before quitting time if he's in a good mood, which, thanks to Hank slacking all day, he's not. It's a wonder the Lieutenant still has his job. He's not bad at it, he just... Barely does it.

   Speaking of Hank, the android allows his eyes to wander to his partner, a mere few feet away from him, only separated by their desks and the distance between them. The older man has his hair tied back, which isn't something he does often, and he's squinting his eyes at the screen on his desk. He probably needs glasses, Connor thinks, telling himself to tell Hank when he has a moment that he should see an optometrist. It's not uncommon for humans to have diminished eyesight at his age-- hell, some humans lose it even before they're Hank's age. 

   Knowing Hank, he'll probably be stubborn about it, and go off on some rant about how he doesn't need glasses,  _"I can see perfectly fine, fuck you very much. Stop trying to put me into an early grave by making me seem older than I actually am. Jesus, Connor, I still got a couple decades left in me."_

Connor suppressed a giggle at the thought. Yeah, that's more than likely what he'll say. He finds a grin stretching on his face as he continues the imaginary conversation in his head.  _"Hank, people lose their eyesight all the time. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn't be ashamed of something that most people end up going through at some point in their life."_

_"No fucking way, Connor, I told you, I don't need glasses. Christ, why do you always have to be busting my balls?"_

_"Because I care about you."_

   "Connor?" Snap. "Connor."

   Connor blinks his eyes. Normally, he would look at the person talking to him, but it seems he was already staring. Hank pulls his hand away from its previous position in front of Connor's face. "The hell's up with you? You look even dopier than usual."

   "Nothing, Lieutenant," Connor said, blue rushing to his cheeks to spite him. "I was just thinking."

   Hank looks disbelieving. "Well, could ya think lookin' in some other direction? You're really creeping me out."

   "Sorry, Lieutenant."  
\--------------------------------

   It's less than four hours before he'd done it again. 

   It wasn't like he was trying to get distracted, as usual, it just happened. 

   He and Hank were eating dinner, and he'd finished first. Go figure, he always gave himself a much smaller portion than Hank, given that he didn't  _need_  to eat, so full meals always felt like a waste on him. Hank is still eating his dinner while softly scolding Sumo to go away, that this was his dinner and he had perfectly good dog food not even five feet away, which was true. Sumo never went hungry. Sometimes, Connor was convinced the man took better care of his dog than he did himself, which had been changing as of recent, but only because Connor insisted like a broken record that Hank should take care of himself. 

   And Connor finds himself staring again. Or really, not finds himself, since he might as well be on another planet, the lights are on, and no one's home, but he's definitely taking in the sight of the human in front of him, even from a million miles away. His hair is still tied back, and he's changed out of his normal clothes into his DPD hoodie. Absentmindedly, Connor finds himself taking vitals on his human. Seventy BPM, within the normal resting heart rate. His blood pressure is about normal, although it seems a bit elevated-- probably from yelling at Sumo, in which case, it'll pass. He can imagine the older man scolding him for taking his vitals, as he has before, but Connor would just reply with the same thing he had in the imaginary conversation he'd made up in his head earlier while bored off his ass at work.  _Because I care about you_.

   "Connor!"

   And suddenly, he's back on Earth. "Huh?"

   "Why the fuck are you staring at me so much today? What's gotten into you?"

   Connor wants to shrink into his seat. "Sorry, Hank... I'll stop."

   Hank stares for a moment, realizing his harsh language and tone have made Connor more uncomfortable than Connor's staring made him. He makes a non-committal sound before shoveling a forkful of food in his mouth. "Don't sweat it, Con."

   Well, at least Connor doesn't look like a kicked puppy anymore. His mood doesn't visibly really improve, per se, but he doesn't look like he'd just... Watched a kitten burn to death, or something. Hank doesn't know, he's too tired to come up with accurate or less morbid sounding metaphors for the way Connor had looked a moment ago. 

   Connor spaces out for another few moments, though looking in a direction other than Hank this time before he finally speaks up. "I think you should see an optometrist."

   "... Why are you bringing this up?"

   The answer sits right at the tip of Connor's tongue. "Because... I saw you squinting at the words on your screen earlier, and it's not uncommon for human eyesight to diminish over time."

   Connor fully expected Hank to say what he'd simulated in his head earlier, but instead, the human just sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'm gettin' old, and my vision just ain't what it used to be."

   "Should I schedule an appointment for you?" He asked hesitantly.

   "Sure, knock yourself out."

   That... Went easier than he expected. He paused. The optometrist office wouldn't even be open anymore, so he made a mental note, which he imagined to look like the sticky notes hanging on the mirror in the bathroom. The words still stayed at the front of his mind, but no matter how many times he found himself the bravado to go through with it, he second-guessed himself. 

   It was frustrating, to say the least. Connor used to be able to say the weirdest, most uncomfortable things before without a care in the goddamn world, and now he couldn't even tell Hank he cared about him when he was still normally so upfront about how he was feeling to the human, even without the 'not a single fuck in the world attitude', as Hank had described him before going deviant. 

   He huffs in frustration as he rolls over in his bed, unable to 'sleep'. Could androids develop insomnia, or was he just subconsciously unwilling to shut off with those unsaid words still lingering at the front of his mind? He frowned, closing his eyes. Happy place, Connor. Don't think about that.

   At first, his happy place shows up as a peaceful garden surrounding a small body of water, an abandoned boat floating on its surface with large white structures-- but then he remembers the last time he'd visited this place, and promptly hits the exit button. Yay, even more complicated feelings. 

   Maybe he could just run a simulation, he reasoned, shutting his eyes again. What could he simulate that would put him at peace, though? There's no way of releasing the frustration from not having told Hank that he cares about him because there's no way of gauging what kind of reaction Hank would have to such a thing. For a moment, he thinks about simulating how he and Hank met, but then remembers that he'd been sitting at a CyberLife warehouse shut off for two months before that. Think, Connor, think. 

   After a few minutes of internally debating, he finally decides on the bridge, where he and Hank had gone after that case at the Eden Club. Sure, Hank had pulled a gun on him, but he wouldn't do that now, now that Connor was a person, too. He imagined it was snowing, in the middle of the day. He really liked snow, liked the way it laid in the older man's greying hair, liked the way it made everything seem so much more peaceful. But what should they be doing in his simulation...?

   Sitting on the bench talking, he decides after a few moments. The simulated version of himself and Hank carry out a conversation, comprised of sound clips of words they've already said to each other. In his simulation, Sumo is running around in the snow a couple of feet away from them, kicking up bits of the fluffy, white, frozen water wherever he goes as he borks happily. 

   And then, his mind does something he hadn't really thought about. Suddenly, there's a small child running around in the snow behind Sumo, giggling and laughing. He looks up at Connor and Hank with a smile on his face, his eyes the same color as Hank's, his hair short, mussy, and brown. Connor looks to his side. Hank's smiling, too, wearing a pair of reading glasses that actually don't make him look older, despite the fact that glasses have a tendency to do such. He looks back at Cole, and the young boy starts chasing Sumo again. 

   He falls asleep with that scenario following him into his dreams. 


End file.
